


Mead, Merriment, and Malice

by ErrantNight



Series: Dragons and Daedra [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Daedric Princes (Elder Scrolls), Daedric shenanigans, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Erotica, F/M, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Seduction, Sexual Slavery, daedric sex, enslavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25821454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErrantNight/pseuds/ErrantNight
Summary: Sanguine was going to invite the pretty warrior to a drinking contest and a merry adventure. That is until he heard another tavern patron call her 'Dragonborn' and that changes his little game entirely.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Sanguine
Series: Dragons and Daedra [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873642
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	Mead, Merriment, and Malice

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm working on my other stuff, I had to scrap what I had and start over but I'm definitely working on it!

Sanguine chooses the most interesting, most vulnerable, person in the tap room.

She’s a small woman, though what he can see through chain mail and leather is well muscled and built from struggling against opponents inevitably larger than she is. She’s already well into her cups when he slides through the light evening crowd of the Bannered Mare, and he invites her to drink with him - he’s not sure he needs to offer a contest at all actually. She’s drinking to forget, he can tell. He can always tell when they’re sad drunks and he hates it, too maudlin by half, however if he chooses to take an interest he can often lead the way to another sort of debauchery entirely. 

He smiles down at her, ordering two cups full of glowing Blackbriar mead, taking one and sliding his fingers down the one he offers her - makes it better, sweeter, so sweet she can’t tell the magically bolstered strength. Makes it go down as easy water, he pats her back and laughs and compliments her fortitude - she almost smiles back, eyes a little glassy and pale cheeks flushing red. Oh yes, he can have fun with her - send her on a merry adventure and see how she takes it, watch to see if she can wriggle out of the… shenanigans he’s already devising just for her.

But then someone makes a joke at her expense and at first it seems she’ll lose the warm pleasure of his mead but she shakes it off and cuffs the man, an off duty guard usually stationed in the Jarl’s hall, and he hears the man call her ‘Dragonborn’. Well, he thinks, that… changes things doesn’t it? Oh that’s a whole new sort of plan that begins whirling and coalescing in his head. 

He looks her over again, blonde hair braided back to fit into the helmet hooked onto her belt and full pink lips and that trembling almost smile is turned up at him as he slaps more coin down. More mead, his fingers stroking not just her cup but her shoulder and he leans in gently and scents her hair - incense he thinks, and a faint hint of blood that he thinks she’ll never wash off - it’s a part of her, not on her. That incense though, and he looks down the white linen of her shirt beneath her chain mail - following the leather cord to the battered symbol of her people’s banished god. 

Oh he has some gloriously devious plans for her now.

"You know, you're a fun person to drink with,” he murmurs in her ear, making her gasp slightly as his lips brush it, “I know this great little place where the wine flows like water. We should head there." 

She looks him up and down, his dark hair falling just so over one eye in his mortal guise, and watches her blush further before her tongue laps nervously over her bottom lip and she nods. He can see the little hint of desperation, of need, and he loves it. It’s not really mead or sex she wants, although he can see she likes that, it’s all part of the ‘forgetting’ she came into the tavern to accomplish. He’ll help her with that, too.

He doesn’t need to worry about her destiny, that was already over and done with - the dragons leftover after her defeat of Alduin would sort themselves out. Destiny wasn’t to be meddled with until it was played out or else things on Mundus would destabilize in not so amusing ways. He knew she’d been to Sovngard for that, everyone was talking about it - even the other Daedric Princes. He felt his own lips part in anticipation as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. If he plays everything just right, she’ll never see Sovngard again. She’ll beg him for the honor of eternity in his realms after her death.

This was going to be quite diverting.

He guides her through the door and she stumbles, her feet dropping out from under her as he pulls her not out into the streets of Whiterun but through a veil into a little pocket of Revelry. It looks like a little nook of a cave complete with the soft sounds of trickling and falling water. There’s an opening in the ceiling that shows something akin the ribbons of light in Skyrim’s sky but in colors that please him more - reds and purples swirling by with bands of gold. 

She’s confused and he lets her cling to his arm as she steadies herself, blinking in warm torch and candlelight so charmingly befuddled. He nudges her toward the pile of rugs and furs piled luxuriously high on the floor, surrounded by empty and half full cups of golden spiced mead and dark wine that shimmers with an oil-slick rainbow of decadence. A low table is piled with delicious food, particularly sweet honey cakes and types of fruit that would never grow in the harsh soil of Skyrim. 

“Where… what?” her voice is sweetly slurred, the scent of mead rising on her breath as he locks his fingers around the back of her neck and propels her into the little warm nook.

“It’s too hot in here,” he says, “to be wearing all that.” Unabashedly uses his power to push the thought through her body and into her mind. This is his realm, he doesn’t need to be so subtle. He has all the power here, and he fully intends to use all of it to best effect.

She pants softly, beginning to fumble with drink-clumsy fingers at her belt and dropping her weapons and helmet on the floor. He has to help her out of the chain mail as she nearly falls with the attempt of pulling it over her head. Momentarily she stands swaying gently from side to side in her linen shirt and breeches, chest rising and falling rapidly as runs his eyes over her. Her armor had been top-notch, expertly made, but the clothing under it was not so well constructed. The shirt hangs off her, the breeches rolled up at the bottom. The neckline of her shirt slips to one side, dropping down over one shoulder. 

Her blue eyes take him in as he steps forward, his clothing parting from his body and vanishing into mist. She blinks again, confusion and a hint of apprehension that could move toward fear at a thought. He likes that too.

“Let me make you feel good,” he murmurs, kicking her weapons to the furthest edges of the room with a clatter in case she begins to get any ideas. She glances toward them, a little alarmed, but then his hands are on her and she relaxes again. His hands are hot, they’re hotter than a mortal’s, and they’re caressing her shoulders and stroking her cheeks, “let me have you,” he continues, and for what’s to come he needs her consent. She doesn’t need to know what she’s agreeing to, but she does need to agree. That’s part of the contract.

A little moan climbs up her throat, a ragged sound that let him know exactly how long it must have been for her. 

His hands cup her breasts through the rough shirt, thumbs caressing over nipples that harden at his touch. He lowers his head, pressing his lips against her bared shoulder and then licking up the side of her throat to bite gently at her fluttering pulse. He nips at the leather cord, ignoring the bitter taste of her faith in his mouth. 

“Let me have you,” he whispers again, hands roaming down to her hips. She was so pleasantly tiny, head barely grazing his collarbone in this human shape - how even smaller she’ll seem in his own true form, “take it off.”

She hesitates, again that little thrill of ‘something is wrong’ rising into the more thoughtful parts of her mind that isn’t softened and gentled by alcohol. His fingers dig into her hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her breeches and tugging her forward to press against him. Her pendant burns against his skin through her shirt and he waits, holding her still til he feels her relent and she blinks slowly like a sleepwalker. Her hands come up, fingers caressing the little cord until finally she pulls the wretched thing off and lets it hang loosely from her fingers. It drops to the floor when his mouth finds hers and he gives her a little pleased groan of his own as he pulls her away from it toward the bed. 

The floor around the amulet cracks and splits, swallowing up the symbol of Talos and spitting it out somewhere in Mundus where it won’t set his teeth on edge. 

He tugs at the laces on her breeches, going to his own knees to pull them down to pool too-large at her feet. He runs his fingers over her loin cloth and that barest touch makes her shudder, whimper, squirm. He laughs, a rich sound that’s muffled when his tongue runs over the cloth and he digs his nails into her hips when she might have fallen over. She’s trembling as he undoes this barrier between them as well. She smells of sweat and faintly of soap and the gently curled hair between her legs is pale blonde. 

She makes a soft noise that’s a blend of need and a taste of fear, she’s trembling harder than before, and he wonders for the first time if she’s never been touched before. The thought of seducing the Dragonborn, who was meant to belong to Akatosh and Talos, was heady enough. To completely despoil her makes him harder still. 

He cups her ass in his hands, pressing his face close but not quite touching, and looks up at her. She’s clutching at her shirt, a wild look in her eyes as they meet his.

“Please tell me I’m your first,” he says, a small hint of need in his own voice. This was such a good idea, more fun than he’s had in centuries. 

Her lower lip quivers and her teeth bite down on it. There’s even more fear but it’s so sweet this time. She’s afraid of him, a little, but also afraid to… admit it. Oh, how glorious.

He laughs again, lowering his head giving one tiny lap of wet heat that thoroughly weakens her and sends her to her own knees. 

“Shh,” he says, stroking her cheek and her pale lashes flutter. He chooses a cup at random and brings it to her mouth, “you’ll need a little more for this.”

He holds the back of her head as he tips the cup and watches her throat as she swallows. Iridescent crimson flows gently from the corners of her mouth to stain her shirt and he tosses the empty cup aside. The pins from her hair follow it, pinging against the goblet as he runs his fingers through waves of gold.

He draws a finger down the front of her shirt, fingernail slicing through the cloth yet only caressing her skin. It falls from her shoulders, finally revealing the pair of small perfect breasts hiding beneath. 

“You want to be mine,” he says, not a question this time, and his mouth curves wickedly as she nods.

He taps her cheek gently with two fingers, an imitation of a slap, and watches her eyes widen, “I need you to say it,” he says, tipping her chin up and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Say it,” he commands this time, feeling her body shiver as his other hand caresses her breast, strokes her nipple, twists hard.

Her back arches, those blue eyes full of a delightful mixture of fear, need, want.

“Yes,” she gasps the word out, adorably embarrassed with her own awakened needs, “please, I want…”

He runs his thumb across the little peak more gently this time, then once more gives a painful twist of fingers, “Say all of it,” he orders, gripping her chin harder.

“Yes,” she says, quickly “I want to be yours.”

She shrinks back as his eyes darken, a flood of heat spreading from the center of his chest and leaving pale human skin a proper crimson in its wake. He feels the sweep of his horns materializing and a fierce grin bares sharper teeth as he looms even larger over her.

“It is done,” he says and he watches her reaction as her vow takes hold. A golden collar loops around her throat and shackles weigh down her wrists. She falls back, her bottom hitting cold stone as she raises her hands to clutch at her symbol of servitude. A soft jingle of chain makes her stare at her hands. Golden cuffs grace her wrist, a delicate seeming chain leading up to gold filigree around her muscled biceps, leading up to the heavy band circling her throat.

“No,” she whispers, staring up at him from the floor as he rises and glides closer. Her hands bat ineffectually at his arm as he hooks a finger beneath the metal and pulls her forward. She scrambles, forced up to her knees and at eye level at what rises much too large for a human man in front of her face. 

He strokes her hair gently. “You said yes,” he reminds her in a soft sing-song, “so you’ll do as you are told.”

“And,” he smiles down at her, as a master looks at his favorite pet, “you’re going to love every moment of it, aren’t you?”

She opens her mouth, doubtless to argue, but she’s still drunk on mortal mead and his own wine and it’s a simple thing to cup the back of her head with one hand and guide his cock between her lips and over her tongue to rest against the back of her throat. Her eyes are wide and he feels her swallow in fear before he ever so slowly pulls her head forward, driving himself deeper into her throat. She squirms, panic in her eyes, when she can’t breathe, and he pulls back again just enough to let her suck air in through her nose and begins again.

In and out, a little further each time. One hand guides her with his fist tangled in her hair, the other touches and pets and he whispers encouragement. She’s so much smaller when he’s in this form, looking delicate and helpless regardless of her muscular frame. He lets her breathe again and this time when he enters her throat he pulls her head forward until her nose is buried in the black hair at the hilt of his cock and she makes a deep primal sound in her throat that makes him laugh in heady pleasure.

“That’s right,” he says, rocking his hips back and forth in tiny increments as her small hands unclench from fists at her side and come to clutch his thighs, “just relax.”

He pulls nearly all the way out, letting her breathe again and he watches her eyes roll up as he thrusts in harder this time. Again, and then again, and then she gives a muffled cry as he thrusts once more and releases himself. She makes a wet sound in her throat as he holds himself still, hand releasing her hair and stroking her throat with his thumb he commands her to swallow.

He nudges her to the side and she falls gasping in the middle of the nest of furs and blankets. A small bead of white wells at the corner of her mouth and he pushes it between her lips with one finger and holds her mouth shut until her throat works again as she swallows.

“Very good,” he purrs, sliding his hand up and down his shaft as it swells to life again at the sight of her, trembling and frightened beneath his gaze.

He grips her hips and drags her back to him, her blue eyes blinking back tears as he smiles beneficently, “You want this.”

She begins to shake her head but his nails are scraping from her hips down her thighs and her head falls back and her mouth opens in wordless agreement. Her fingers wind in the fur beneath her and he can see the exact moment that her need overwhelms her sense of self preservation.

“Very, very good,” he says again and her hips twitch in response to his praise. She could have fought back, could have tried to run, and the very fact that she lay beneath him with not a hint of struggle was all he needed. 

Not that he needed anymore of her assent. She’d pledged herself to his service all unwary and now she belongs to him in mind, body, and soul, a most glorious trophy that he can’t wait to parade beneath the noses of his rivals.

He releases her and reaches out for another cup, sipping hot mead this time and offers it to her, “mead makes everything sweeter, pet,” he says, helping her as she spills as much down her cheeks as down her throat. 

She twitches slightly as his gaze roves down her body to rest between her legs, tapping her thighs as they unconsciously come together, “None of that, now,” he says, “don’t fear, precious, I’m not some crude mortal man.”

He showed her, cupping her ass and pulling her up and then sliding a finger through the slick wetness and holding it up, “See, you want this,” he bared his teeth in a wide grin, “say it.”

Her eyes close and her mouth opens and he enjoys watching her fight with herself before she sighs, “Yes.”

His hand strikes her bottom sharply and her eyes fly open. She realizes, then, what he wants. He’ll bring her fully to heel as much as Clavicus’ loyal hound. 

Her pale skin flushes again, she tries to look away and then brings her eyes back to meet his as he raises a hand once more, “I want it,” she says, then so very quietly a plaintive ,”please.” 

“Good girl,” he doesn’t miss the faintly pleased expression in her eyes, bending his head and bringing her to meet him halfway. She tastes like honeyed wine now, and she always would. His tongue, as rough as a cats, lathes over her skin and he loves the way her hips buck as he sucks on her most sensitive bit of flesh.

She was so small it was easy to hold her up with one broad hand, the other pressing gently into her as he licks and kisses in turns until she was merely a writhing creature beneath his ministrations and not a fabled hero. One finger becomes two, ever so slowly as he helps her relax. Soft sighs and moans filled the air around them as he makes her ready. He stops. Instantly, the moment before she reaches the apex, enjoying the desperation and wonder in her face. How had she never been taken, had she even entertained herself? He thinks not, and it was all the sweeter when he rises up and the very tip of his cock touches slick velvet. 

He’s just as gentle here, he’s had millennia to perfect this art. He presses a hand against her belly, sending a wave of heat through her as he’d done before and her body relaxes completely as he slides into her. He doesn’t let her tense, stroking his fingers down her face and cupping both breasts as he works his way in a bit at a time. She’s far too small, as any mortal woman is, to take him in all the way - he’ll change that when she’s left her mortal form behind and comes to him at the end, but for now he loves watching the sweet panic in her face when he’s gone as far as he can.

He pulls back, rocking his hips ever so slowly, until her head falls back and she whimpers, “Please…”

“Lord,” he says, chidingly, “I am Sanguine, your Lord and Master,” he can barely keep the glee from his face as she nods drowsy agreement.

“Master,” she whispers, the word drawn out slowly as if she’s tasting it in her mouth

He strokes in and out once more, then stops and takes his hands away from her body, “And?”

She whines deep in her chest, much like the little pet he’d named her, an animal sound of desire.

He waits, unmoving, until she lets go and the tiniest fraction of tension she’d held onto fades from her body.

“My Lord,” she said, writhing and hitching her own hips up to meet him, “Master? Please?”

He throws his head back and laughs, thrusting into her until she screams his name and tumbles over the precipice into her first taste of the pinnacle of pleasure.

He takes her twice more, planning further debauchery that could wait awhile - he doesn’t want to give her everything all at once, he wants her to need it, to beg for it, later.

He reclines against the pillows, her head lolling in his lap as he feeds her bits of cake and fruit from his fingers and idly samples some for himself.

“Oh, pet,” he says, “we’re going to have so much fun together.”

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic erotica I've ever posted, please let me know what you think. I'm definitely going to write more with them so if you have specific request I might fit it in <3


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